


Bookends

by coolbyrne



Category: NCIS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 09:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17805353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: Post-episode fic for "She". A small look into the Gibbs/Ziva relationship. A slightly larger look into the Gibbs/Jack one.





	Bookends

A/N: With Jack’s background not yet fully established, I’ve taken some liberties using a little of Maria Bello’s age and personal background. 

…..

She was so engrossed in the book that she didn’t hear him return from the kitchen until he blatantly cleared his throat. Guiltily caught with her hand in the figurative cookie jar, she looked up and began to apologize. 

“I didn’t mean- I mean, it was tucked in the cushion and-”

He cut her off by handing her a beer. “If I didn’t want you to see it, I would’ve hidden it with a certain 1987 USC yearbook.” His knees groaned in relief when he sat beside her. Gesturing to the black journal with his bottle, he asked, “Find anything interesting?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing. Out of all her journals, you only took the one with your name on it.”

He shrugged. “Wasn’t my business to take anything else.”

“It’s probably not my business to read it.” He shook his head, dismissing her worry. “So what did you find?”

“Nothing that I didn’t already know.”

She nodded her understanding. “Still, it’s nice to have something tangible, isn’t it? Something you can hold in your hand.” The pages were soft and worn as she flipped through them. “She wasn’t shy in her judgments and feelings.”

His lips smirked around the pull of his beer. “You saw the first page.”

“ _‘I hate him’_ ,” she read aloud. “ _‘Never have I met such a man! Stubborn! Like iron!’_ Not sure I can translate the Hebrew.”

“Somethin’ about how I should be tied to the foot of a wild horse by my balls.”

The beer nearly came out of her nose and she waved her hand in front of her face in an attempt to bring her amusement under control. “An appropriate response.”

Narrowing his eyes, he nudged her shoulder. “Oh yeah?”

Nudging him right back, she held up the book. “By the end of it, things had changed.”

“Pretty sure she still thought I was stubborn.”

Jack flipped to the last entry. “ _‘I saw a pride in his eyes today that filled a space I did not know I had inside me. His strength gives me strength but his heart gives me belief that I have and can make a difference. He fixes my troubles with a kind moment and when I am on the floor, he picks me up with a simple look. He would be embarrassed to hear such words, but I do not care. I am just as stubborn as him!’_ ” She reverently touched the words. “She looked up to you.”

He looked off to a point in the distance of a memory. In an attempt to derail the topic, he noted, “You haven’t asked me if I think she’s still alive.”

Chuckling, and fully aware of his ploy, Jack corrected him. “No. I haven’t asked you how long you’ve known she’s still alive.” She privately congratulated him for turning his head away. He was learning his eyes gave up everything under her scrutiny. Saving him from the decision of whether to lie or tell the truth, she casually commented, “No father would blindly accept his daughter’s death without absolute certainty. And no daughter would let her father believe it.” His minute nod would have been missed if she hadn’t known him so well. Rather than press him on a subject she knew he’d deny out loud, she took her small victories where she could. “You never had kids after Kelly. And yet, you kind of did. In a manner of speaking.”

His cool eyes warmed in agreement. “Yeah. Guess so.” Leaning his head back on the couch, he waited for her to do the same. When she sighed in contentment, he surprised her by lacing his finger with hers. “You ever think of having kids? After your daughter?”

She reflexively gripped his hand and was comforted by his echoing squeeze. “I thought about it,” she said, voicing the truth out loud for the first time. She was given another squeeze as a reward for her bravery. “But you know, life has a habit of getting in the way. Joined the military, built up my profession, couldn’t meet Mr. Not Bad let alone Mr. Right, and now I’m 51.”

“You still got time. To meet Mr. Not Bad.”

“Please. At this point I’d settle for Mr. Knows His Way Around the Bedroom.”

He barked a laugh at her unabashed honesty and took a swig of his beer to cover the rare flush that was creeping up his neck.

“What?” she asked, in her brazen way. “Just because I can’t have kids doesn’t mean I don't like going through the motions.”

The beer didn’t make it all the way down, and the words triggered a chain reaction of sputters and coughs.

“Jesus, Jack!” he choked out between her sharp blows on his back.

She shrugged, absolving herself from blame. “I only speak in facts.” Her feigned seriousness was broken by his squint. Warmly rubbing the spot where she had just struck him, she said, “Thanks for letting me read the book.”

Recovering from his coughing fit, he rasped, “Think it was less of me lettin’ you and more of you just doin’ it.” The accusation lost its sting when he grinned.

“Well, it was right there!” she protested. 

She froze, her eyes locked with his, and his innocently raised eyebrows didn’t do much to cover his smirk as he watched the tumblers fall into place. 

“1987 USC yearbook.” Her eyes narrowed at the memory of his words.

He lifted his chin in anticipation of the shoe dropping. A head tilt was a silent, “Go on.”

“I went to USC. In 1987.” Her mouth dropped open as she heard the words. “You vetted me!”

“Yep.”

“All the way back to college??” When he playfully looked away, she slapped his chest with the back of her hand. “How far?”

His shrug was nonchalant. “I dunno. How old were you when you won ‘Montgomery County’s Cutest Baby’?” 

“Shut. Up.”

“Payback’s a bitch, Special Agent Sloane.” His expression remained frustratingly impassive, even as her elbow dug into his ribs. 

“Well, I _did_ see you and your dog, so-” She pretended to be surprised by his sudden scrutiny. “Your dog, Apollo? Mr. Sydney had the sweetest photo of the two of you in his wallet.” She could tell Gibbs was weighing the veracity of the comment, so she filled in the blanks. “That cut above your right eye gave you a very ‘take no shit’ look that came as _no_ surprise. Mr. Sydney said you got that in a fight with- and I quote- ‘That little weasel, Billy Wilcox’.”

He snorted. “Tried to steal my bike, little shit.” He took another pull at his beer.

“And you can’t deliver papers without a bike, can you?”

Slowly lowering the bottle from his lips, he narrowed his eyes and asked, “Exactly how much did he tell you from one photo?” Jack looked everywhere but at him, her face a picture of playful innocence. “I’m gonna kill that old man.”

“Payback _is_ a bitch, Special Agent Gibbs.” She accepted the responding elbow into her side.

They let the warmth of the moment wash over them, two people with very different pasts sitting together on a couch sharing the same present. She raised her beer.

“To young boys and their dogs.”

The low growl in his throat wasn’t as menacing as he would have liked. “To old men who should shut the hell up.”

She didn’t bother trying to hide her smile despite his scowl. Looking down at the book on her lap, she said, “To good memories.” Her eyes went to their hands, still linked. “And to making even better ones.”

The playful disapproval was immediately replaced by something more honest and true. “To both of those,” he agreed, a softness running through his words. The moment lasted a weighted beat before he casually added, “And who knows? Some might even be ‘Not Bad’.” For the second time that night, he had stunned her into silence. Grinning, he stood and took her empty beer bottle. “Be right back.”

He got all the way to the kitchen doorway before he heard her spontaneous laughter.

…..


End file.
